In the early morning light, the stallion walked a familiar path over the sand. Sleep would not come easily, even with the Demon's hold lifted from his soul. There were far too many things on his mind, the promise of hard decisions looming. His title was foremost on the Sultan's mind, especially when he did not feel he even held the duties of the highest rank. Not when anything he said or did was undermined by Kri. That hypocrite mare, not wanting to be called Sultana but sitting arrogantly on her throne like a great and stupid hen, passing her temper-driven judgements over the herd. Gold eyes narrowed at the sand, ears twisted backwards in disgust. Why even ask for his help as leader, if all she had no mind to use his damned help? Leaving was only a step away, a few cold words of truth and wingbeats across the border, so close he could taste the freedom. And yet, here he was, still patrolling the Throat with such fervent devotion and loyalty. It was sick, but he could not force himself to abandon the herd, not just yet. If Kri could learn to accept him as an equal, to see that change was something often good and needed, maybe there was a chance. There was the thought to call the herd together and overthrow her, of course, but the golden could not put her to that fate either. The herd was too distant from Kri to see what he had seen. They would keep her in power because they knew no better. And who would listen to his word, against that of their long-time Queen?

Ember was the only distraction he had in the Throat, besides the kind ear of Aitheria. The young eagle had learned to fly, and each day she grew more confident upon her wings. She had taken to flying higher and higher above him as he patrolled the ground, keeping an eye on their surroundings and often catching herself some small vermin. This morning was no different, and her ochre form sailed high on the air. She was the first to spot the StormChaser in the distance, and let out a sharp call down to his sooty ears before gliding back down to the safety of her perch on his back. "Don't worry Ember, it is a friend." He spoke quietly, though his language was still foreign to her. Still, Ember had been with him long enough to understand his body language well enough, and she settled her sleek brown feathers as the pegasus mare landed. Leander fell into a brisk walk to meet the ebon winged Cheiftess. Not so long ago he'd found himself trying to rescue her from the Unicorns of the Basin, and worry crept back over his features. She had looked so wrong there, so ultimately defeated. He did not want to think about what those bastards had put her through, only vow to make them pay for it. Even the love of Faelene would not stop him from killing those who hurt held his friend's captive. Reaching the silver warrior maiden, he reached his muzzle out to brush her cheek. It was an affectionate gesture reserved for friends, and he was not one to hide his relief. "Svetlana. I am so glad to see you are alright." He greeted her with a broad smile and warm tones, bronze pools running over her body in search of injury. "Please forgive me, for I was not able to help you escape from the Basin myself. I plan to make up for my failure in the future." There was an edge to the latter phrase, an ominous promise lingering it it. Those Unicorns would get their atonement day. For you did not torture innocent lives without retribution.

The lady spoke, words harder than he might have expected. Even in her apparent turmoil, she had vigor once again. His smile softened on his lips as she continued. She was alright, despite whatever Faelene's group put her through. That was what mattered, for now. He still could not push away the stark knowledge that the Unicorns had taken one who had not even pushed them from their home. Svetlana became Chieftess after the battle. Why had they chosen her to be a captive? Did they really think that taking her from the Foothill's would gain them anything but enemies? Bronze orbs pulled off of Svetlana as they grew icy, casting across the rays of light falling on the sands. Her words were a comfort, but there was no changing the fact that he had failed her in his own eyes.

A grin pulled back on his velvets as she spoke of her loyalty to him, though the confusion across his face was evident. It was the second time a friend had pledged their loyalty to him, and not to Kri. It was becoming an even more pleasant occurrence, the more his resentment for the Sultana grew. His happiness was quickly washed away as the StormChaser continued, making him aware of her loss. Ashen ears turned back in anger, and his gaze lingered hard on her pitch eyes. "I am sorry, Svetlana. You are more suited to rule, in my eyes, than any colt. I am honored that you have such faith in me, and I promise to uphold that faith as best I can." He said, words strong and purposeful. "But I must tell you that things are not well here in the Throat. Kri is not the leader I thought her to be. If things do not change, I may leave the Throat myself and give up the title of Sultan." Pain flashed across his visage as he spoke. "I cannot lead alongside someone who is ruled by their temper. We have lost our Artisan to the Basin, and her anger pushed him away. I will not be a part of tyranny. I care for the Throat, but I cannot be her partner if she cannot keep her emotions in check." Leander's voice rang softly as he explained, the knowledge for his friend's ears only. He would give her his friendship and allegiance as long as she wanted it, no matter what his title would become.